


Pint-Sized

by storiewriter



Series: Bentley Farkas fics [19]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Bentley actually wins something, Dipper and Torako become children, Gen, Transcendence AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:22:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiewriter/pseuds/storiewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Child-leashes had never made more sense.</p><p>“Torako you—oh my god stop just taking things off the shelves and dropping them on the floor, you’re not actually literally four even though you—Dipper so help me if you try sneaking one more bag of candy in that cart I am going to ban you from my bed for a week.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pint-Sized

            When Bentley realized that Dipper and Torako were no longer anywhere near the cart, he stopped dead in the middle of the frozen food section and stared at the bags of mixed medley and stir fry in suspended animation.

            “They’re up to no good, aren’t they,” he asked one particularly limp bag. It bobbed up and down in place and didn’t respond; if it had, Bentley probably would have just stared at it a bit more and then moved on.

            He sighed, swiped the thermoshield out of the way, and snagged first the sad bag of peas and carrots, then a more robust package of green beans. He tossed them into the cart, tilted his head and surveyed his options, then pulled a New California Medley mix from the bottom and slid the thermoshield back in place. He dropped the frozen veg on the other two bags and surveyed his cart. Milk, eggs, cheese, summer sau—he was going to put the summer sausage back, dammit Torako—bread, another small container of ice cream, and he was maybe halfway through the list at this point.

            Bentley scratched that the back of his head, and then pushed the shopping cart forward. Judging by the whine of the front hoverpad, it needed to see some maintenance soon. “If they don’t show up soon,” he muttered to himself, quiet enough that the old lady at the end of the aisle wouldn’t hear him, “I’m going to get myself a bag of goddamn chocolate croissants and eat them all by myself.”

            That was, of course, too much to hope for; not ten seconds after he’d turned the corner, he heard the crackle of the intercom. “Ah, um, would a Bentley Farkas come up to the customer service desk? Your children have been found. Repeat, Bentley Farkas to the customer service desk please.”

            Bentley stopped between aisles 9 and 10 and looked down at the sad bag of peas and carrots again. “I’m going to kill them before we leave the store, aren’t I?”

            The bag did not respond. Bentley sighed, then turned the cart around and headed for the service desk at the front of the store.

* * *

Yesterday, Torako and Dipper had been haggling prices under their breaths for something and got quiet whenever he came too close. Bentley had not connected this particular venture with his refusal four days prior to let them play-fight over his attention, nor with his scathing comments about how they sure were tall for preschoolers.

In fact, he’d thought nothing of _that_ event, as commonplace as it was for them to heckle each other and him by proxy by acting as childish as possible. Honestly, he’d thought that those arguments were the extent of their immaturity.

Bentley, looking down at four-year-old Dipper and Torako and being passively-aggressively scolded by the elderly service deskperson, thought about how very satisfying it would be when they found their asses locked and warded out of the apartment. Dipper had the utter gall to survey the air around Bentley’s head and shoulders, and then smile the most faux-innocent smile Bentley had ever seen out of anybody, Torako included.

“Let’s go then, children,” Bentley said, trying and failing to keep the ire out of his voice. He managed to turn it more saccharine than bitter, but the look the elderly service deskperson gave him was telling.

“I want Moffios!” Torako screamed and holy eldritch mother of squid when the hell had she attached herself to his leg?

“I’ve told you that the sugar content is too high,” Bentley found himself saying. “They’re bad for you. I even got your coaches to sign a document that said that you should not eat as many bowls of Moffios as you think you need to eat.”

“Moffios!” Torako screeched, and Bentley saw Dipper start wandering off just in time to snag him by the back of his shirt.

Bentley turned to the store employee, who, by their expression, _hadn’t_ seen Dipper and Tora actually acting like brats. “Sorry,” he said, as was his habit when he was with these two. Together. In public. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever _not_ felt the need to apologize with them around.

“Ah,” The deskperson said. They raised a thin, bark-embossed hand. “Ah.”

“All right, my _dearest ducklings_ ,” Bentley said, bent over to keep hold of Dipper and thankful that these shopping carts had a hands-free option installed. “Let’s go get this done and _don’t wander off_ , okay?”

            “MOFFIOOOOOS!” Torako was hanging off his jacket at this point, and damn she was a heavy four-year-old. Were four-year-olds supposed to even be that big?

            Dipper started stamping his feet. “Moffios! Moffios! Moffios!”

            Bentley decided that dammit he was going to get that bag of chocolate croissants, open the blinds to the apartment window after he’d locked them out, and eat them right in front of their eyes.

* * *

            Child-leashes had never made more sense.

            “Torako you—oh my god stop just taking things off the shelves and dropping them on the floor, you’re not actually literally four even though you—Dipper so help me if you try sneaking one more bag of candy in that cart I am going to ban you from my bed for a _week_.”

            Torako gasped and pointed, her ridiculously adorable, pudgy little child face transfixed in an expression of wonder. “Benny, Benny, MOFFIOS!”

            Bentley was not quite able to catch the bag of candy Dipper had been waving around before his dumb demon brother turned. “Moffios?”

            “No,” Bentley said. He picked up the bag of candy and put it back on the rack, along with the other three bags Dipper had pushed through the gaps in the cart. “We are not getting Moffios. We are getting Golden Charms, we are getting _two_ turbo-sized boxes of Fruit Bats which are already pushing it and I wouldn’t get if it weren’t for the fact they have actual _fruit_ in them, and we are getting off-brand Raisin Bran because it stretches things.”

            She started jumping up and down, still pointing at the sugary abomination that was Moffios. “But I want Moffios!”

            “I want Moffios!” Dipper echoed, jumping up and down and stamping the tile underfoot as he did so. Bentley was hyper-aware of all the judgemental glances being sent their way, the mutters of ‘can’t even control his children’ and ‘this is what naughty children do, Samantha.’ His face burned.

            If only they knew, Bentley thought at the pair of dads that passed muttering about demon brats. If only they knew.

            “Well tough luck,” Bentley said. He wanted to just take the cart and leave them there, but was fairly certain that trick didn’t work on actual adults playing child. “Because we aren’t. Sucks to be you, then; I’ll just go put back this ice cream, we didn’t need it anyways.”

            There was horrified silence. Dipper was the first to break it, eyes flashing yellow-on black and small whispers of yellow smoke spurting out of his ears. “NO MAMA.”

            Bentley twitched. He lifted the ice cream. “Cherry Garcia, what a waste. I was going to share it with both of you when we got home, but I don’t think we need it after all. Oh, look, there’s a return chute just down at the end of the aisle, it would be so easy to put it back.”

            Dipper stamped his feet. “NO NO NO NO NO.”

            “Hmmm,” Bentley said, taking another couple steps back and feeling the cart’s detection field brush up against his back before the cart slid forward in tandem with him. Torako and Dipper stared. “I think you two have misbehaved too much today. No take-backs!”

            After a moment, Dipper let out a high-pitched, warbling shriek that bordered on the eldritch and stamped after Bentley, who realized that the pro to both of them being short was that for once his legs were _longer_. Dipper had just reached his leg and was scaling it when Bentley reached over, placed the ice cream into the tube, and hit the ‘return’ button.

            “NO!” Torako howled, racing over as fast as she could. She waved her arms around. “NO BENNY THAT’S MEAN!”

            “Well, you were mean first,” Bentley said. “If you don’t behave, the next thing to go is the extra box of Fruit Bats. Now, who wants to follow along nicely while _Mama Benny_ finishes his shopping?”

            Torako and Dipper stood below, the options laid bare before them. One, they could behave and this trip would end uneventfully. Two, they could misbehave and find their favorite items removed from the cart entirely. Three, they could cause unimaginable chaos and have all three of them kicked out of the store.

            Bentley saw Dipper’s eyes narrow, his small shoulders hunch. Bentley caught his gaze and let a smile spread across his face. Bentley vowed to do worse than kick them out of the apartment for the night if they went with the third route.

            “If, by chance,” Bentley said, and he lifted Torako’s package of contraband sausage. He ignored her cry as he sent it back to where it belonged. “You were to do anything…drastic…you might find that any treats but mine will not stay in this cart. And yes, Sweetie Tora, that includes the other box of Fruit Bats.”

            “No _Fruit Bats_?” Torako asked, big brown eyes wibbling with tears. Bentley told himself that no he was not going to be felled by their goddamn acts, he was going to be strong and show them that this revenge trip had _backfired_.

            “None. Zero boxes.” Bentley, having seen Dipper blink and relax suspiciously, reached behind him and pulled out the tubs of ice cream that had found their way into the cart. Dipper screeched as Bentley put them into the returning system, and clawed his way up to Bentley’s knee.

            “ _I WANT MY ICE CREAM_.”

            “See, Torako? This is a prime example of what misbehaving brings you. I had a carton of ice cream for Dipper earlier, but see what happened?”

            “MONSTER!” Dipper howled, clinging to Bentley’s jacket and kicking out with his legs. “DEMON! JERKFACE!”

            Torako narrowed her eyes, the tears that were welling up in them thinning. She brushed them away, more calculating than any child her apparent age had the right to be. Bentley crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “Well?”

            Her lips pursed, and then she looked away. “Fine,” she said, “for the Fruit Bats. I still want Moffios.”

            “Sorry Tora,” Bentley said, and reached a hand out to ruffle her hair. “But those are contraband in the house. Do you want a piggyback ride instead?”

            “Yeah!” Tora said. She lifted her arms. “Up up up up up!”

            Dipper made a noise of indignation and hitched himself up onto Bentley’s hip. “No fair! If Tora gets dumb Fruit Bats I get ice cream!”

            Bentley gave Dipper his most unimpressed expression, and after checking to see that nobody else was around, slid his hands under Dipper’s armpits and hoisted him. “That’s funny,” Bentley murmured. “A millennia old demon throwing a temper tantrum? What will Dad think?”

            Dipper’s scrunched up face relaxed and paled. His mouth went slack.

            “You know, he’s coming next week,” Bentley said. “I’m sure that he wouldn’t mind photographs. Oh, and questions. I can see it now; did you choose this form out of any lingering attachment to human children, as evidenced in how—”

            “I hate you,” Dipper hissed

            Bentley hummed. Really, in moments like these, he could understand why Torako and Dipper almost incessantly tried to pull one over each other (and, inevitably, over Bentley). There was a smug weight in his chest, and he didn’t resist the urge to smirk. “Should have thought about that, shouldn’t you have?”

            Dipper stared at him with a flat expression too old for his pudgy face. Bentley chuckled, and set him down.

            Almost immediately, Torako was clambering up onto his back, which pushed Bentley down just enough that he had to catch himself on his hands. He let out a grunt, and Torako slid into the divot just between his shoulders, fingers fisted in his jacket.

            “Go, Dipper!” She cried out, and Bentley started to push himself up because that voice promised nothing but chaos for him. “Avenge me! Avenge the Moffios!”

            Bentley heard the front traction pad of the shopping cart rattle and twisted around. There was Dipper, cackling as he pushed the cart forward, tiny legs working overtime. In one of those chubby hands was Bentley’s wallet.

            “You little—” Bentley hollered, pushing himself to his feet. Torako pulled her weight to one side, and he staggered across the aisle before catching himself on the shelves. “Torako! He’s going to clean out the ice cream aisle _and_ my wallet! How could you!”

            “I GET MOFFIOS!” she screeched in his ear, and Bentley winced. He grabbed her by the ankles, grit his teeth, and then started moving forward.

            “Not if I stop him first,” he said, and stumbled as she tugged at his hair. “Ow! Tora!”

            “Moffioooooos!” she trilled. “Moffios Moffios Moffios!”

            “I hate you both,” Bentley hissed, rounding the corner and stalking down the back of the store, head tilted to the right as they approached the frozen food section. He skipped past another customer and mumbled an apology. “I’m going to ward the Fruit Bats so you can’t have them and I’m going to ban ice cream from the house for the next _month_ and you are both going to rue the day you decided to do this!”

            Above him, Torako cackled. She probably thought he was all air. How cute.

            Bentley turned the corner and there was Dipper, hefting what looked like the second gallon of cookies and cream above his head to drop in the basket. His head swiveled towards him, and Bentley started moving forward, stretching his legs as far as they could go and ignoring the pain of his hair being tugged.

            “Woah!” Torako giggled. “No, steed, not this way nothing to be seen this way!”

            Bentley bared his teeth at Dipper, who paled and dropped his arms. The bucket of ice cream swung by the handle in his fists, and he took a step back.

            “Dipper,” Bentley said, drawing even with the shopping cart, and Dipper took another step back. Torako stopped tugging on Bentley’s hair. “I think you should put the ice cream back.”

            Dipper looked from side to side before squaring his shoulders and gazing up at Bentley. “Or what?” A couple teenagers passed by, snickering.

Bentley narrowed his eyes. “Do you really want to know?”

“ _Oh shit_ ,” Torako whispered. Dipper glanced up at her, then back at Bentley’s face. The second before he did so, Bentley saw the decision to drop the bucket and run.

Dipper turned, letting go of the ice cream as he did. Bentley lunged forward, caught the ice cream, reached out for the back of Dipper’s jacket and nabbed that too. Torako squeaked from her perch on his shoulder, and Bentley pulled Dipper to him.

            “No!” Dipper wailed. “No! I’m not bad! You’re bad!”

            Bentley hefted him up and then tucked him in a ball under one arm, put the ice cream back with the other hand. “You,” he said, calm as he placed the other gallon of ice cream on top of the stock of cookies and cream, “and Torako and I are going to have a _talk_ once we get home, aren’t we?”

            For a moment, there was silence. Dipper wiggled in his grasp, and Bentley knew deep down that the only thing stopping Dipper from breaking free was Dipper himself. He still tightened his grasp just a bit.

            Torako pushed her face next to his. “…will it come with cuddles?”

            Bentley, one hand wrapped around Torako’s ankle, the other arm full of dumb demon brother, stopped, looked up at her, and smirked.

            “Heh,” he said, and she pulled back, alarm crossing her features. “Good joke.”

* * *

            Bag of chocolate croissants in hand, Bentley leaned against the windowsill and smiled at Torako and Dipper, now normal-sized, pressing their faces against the window.

            “Let us iiiiin!” Torako wailed. “Let us in it’s Fall it’s cold!”

            He hummed, chewed on pastry and chocolate as he considered it. “Nah,” he said after swallowing. “You have a demon space heater. Take advantage of it.”

            “I hate you,” Dipper said. “I take back everything nice I ever said about you, you’re the worst of the worst.”

            “Payback’s a gremlin,” Bentley said. He licked off his fingers, glanced out at them and grinned. “You know, I think I could go for another one.”

            “You didn’t even get me any ice cream!” Dipper howled, gloved hands pushed against the glass. They were a bit brown around the edges; Bentley reflected that they should probably clean the windows soon.

            “My Moffios,” Torako moaned, sliding down the glass so that her face was even with Dipper’s and Bentley’s. “My Fruit Bats. You stole them from me!”

            Revenge felt great, Bentley thought. He pulled out one more chocolate croissant; his third one. Probably was enough until tomorrow. “I did warn you I would.”

            “But you’re Bentley!” Torako smacked her hands against the window, but not hard enough that the anti-theft system would kick in and zap her. “You’re Bentley, the sweetest of the sweet, the all-forgiving cinnamon roll!”

            Bentley stared her in the eye. He lifted the croissant, and without looking away, took a giant bite of it.

            Torako screamed, pushed away from the window and danced in place. Bentley looked at Dipper, raised an eyebrow, and chewed.

            “The _worst_ ,” Dipper said. “Let us in, please! Pretty please! We’ll promise never to do it again!”

            “Nope!” Bentley said, mouth still full. He chewed a few more times before swallowing and continuing. “Go find somewhere to crash. I’m sure you guys can find something.”

            “But cuddles!” Torako yelled. Dipper echoed her. “Cuddles and cocoa and it was going to be a nice night in!”

            “You’ve got to roll with the punches,” Bentley said. He pointed the croissant at her. “Deal with what life deals you. Make juice out of your grapefruits. Pudding out of your limes. You know.”

            “Fine,” Dipper hissed. He pulled Torako to his side in a one-armed hug. “We’re going to go out on the town and you’re going to be so jealous when we come back and let you know how much _fun_ you missed out on.”

            Bentley smiled, waved. “Okay, have fun! Sounds good! I’ve got a paper to work on anyways!”

            Dipper stamped his feet in place, and then tried to twirl around. Torako smirked and picked him up, hoisting him onto her shoulders. Dipper let out a screech with an undertone of metal against metal, and Torako took one, two large steps towards the stairs and away from the apartment window.

            Bentley shrugged, ate another bite of croissant. They’d probably wander back drunk and pass out against the door, or play chicken in public again, or something dumb. Just in case, though, he thumbed his phone off and headed off to the bedroom. If they thought they were getting in the next day, then they had another thing coming.

           

           

 


End file.
